


A Kind of Fairytale: The Curse

by NoNamesFromCats



Series: A Kind of Fairytale [1]
Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Anorexia, Bulimia, Christmas, Eating Disorders, Enemies to Friends, F/F, Fairytales Aren't Real, Gen, Getting Help, Grudgingly Supportive Regina, Hope, Hospitalization, Land Without Magic (Once Upon a Time), Motherhood, Recovery, treatment
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-02
Updated: 2019-10-02
Packaged: 2020-11-22 04:13:37
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 12
Words: 14,271
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20868005
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NoNamesFromCats/pseuds/NoNamesFromCats
Summary: Real World AU. Regina knew the moment her adopted son Henry brought his “real mom” to town that she hated Emma Swan. Now Emma's leaving town for good, on a path to self-destruction. Regina wants nothing more than to let her go, but she knows Henry would never forgive her. What's more, she'd be no better than the fairytale villain he believes her to be. Regina POV.





	1. A Cry For Help

**Author's Note:**

> Part 1 is Enemies-to-Friends. I'm writing a Part 2 that will take the relationship further.
> 
> There is no mention of calorie or weight numbers in this story and I've tried to limit size-based language.
> 
> If you or someone you know is struggling with disordered eating, there is hope and there is help available. There are helplines you can contact in the US (National Eating Disorders Association) and Canada (National Eating Disorder Information Centre).

When Regina opened the door and saw Emma standing there, she almost shut it in her face. But then she caught sight of the large leather-bound book in her hands, the one with _Once Upon a Time_ emblazoned on it in old-fashioned illuminated letters. The loathsome book that had started this whole fairy tale obsession and turned her son against her.

“That's Henry's,” she said, glaring at Emma. Not that she wouldn't be glad if he never saw the thing again, but it infuriated her that while he had never intentionally let her see it, he had obviously given it to her.

“I know. I came to return it. He left it with me, but—” she thrust the book towards Regina. “He should have it back. It belongs with him.”

Regina took the book, holding it like something dug out of the trash. She wondered how long she could keep it from Henry before he started asking for it. A large part of her wanted to burn the damn thing and tell him to just get over it, but she suspected her problem wouldn't end there.

She scowled at Emma, the woman who'd given Henry up in a closed adoption. The woman who Henry had latched onto so thoroughly, and declared the princess Savior of the town. She'd been the thorn in Regina's side since she got there, trying to claim rights she'd signed away ten years ago. Regina had tried to keep Henry away from her, of course, but that hadn't worked.

And the woman was a mess. A loner who had grown up in foster homes, been to jail and now bounced around from town to town. And her _problem_. At first Regina had thought it was drugs—that tired look in her eyes, the pallor of her skin and that weird restlessness. But through her sources, and a few rather oblique conversations with Ruby at the diner and Mary Margaret, she'd realized the woman had some kind of problem with eating. And the longer she stayed in town, the more noticeable it became.

Of course, it could have been something else—a physical illness, a medical condition, something she was hiding from Henry so he wouldn't worry. But she seemed to be going to great lengths to hide it from everybody, and Mr. Clark at the pharmacy said she hadn't been in to fill any kind of prescription.

It had infuriated Regina that no one else seemed to notice, especially not Henry. Emma was perfect in his eyes. She sought to prove his Savior wasn't all she was cracked up to be, so she'd baked a batch of her famous apple turnovers and brought them with her when she'd had to collect her son—yet again—from Emma's. She'd demanded Emma eat one, just to prove her wrong. It seemed ridiculous. All she'd had to do was take a bite of the damn thing. One bite, and Regina wouldn't have had a leg to stand on.

But she couldn't even do that. And Henry, instead of seeing some flaw in his perfect 'real mother', declared that Regina had poisoned it and in an attempt to save Emma, grabbed the thing and ate it so fast he choked and lost consciousness.

She could have killed Emma Swan right then, she really could have. But of the two of them, Emma was the only one who knew CPR. She got Henry breathing again, but he was in a coma for three of the most heart-wrenching days Regina had every experienced. 

And then he woke up, and she'd never been so relieved in her life. Maybe that was the reason she'd told Emma she could stay in town—not that any of Regina's efforts had thus far gotten her to leave—and see Henry, as long as she cleaned up her act. And Emma had agreed.

And everything had gone back to the uncomfortable way it had been—her and Emma's tense rivalry, and Henry's obsessive delusions about her being a villain from a storybook. And now Emma was here. Regina squinted past her to the road where Emma's VW bug was parked. Strange. It was only a few minutes from Mary Margaret's apartment where she was staying, and Emma mostly walked.

“Are you going somewhere?” Even at the thought, her heart soared. The thought of Emma leaving of her own volition. Out of her and Henry's lives forever. Maybe then she'd have a chance of getting through to him, and proving that people weren't purely good or evil. That people were just, people. And Emma Swan wasn't going to break any magical curse.

“Uh. You were right.” Emma finally looked right at her, shifting her weight from foot to foot. Regina could see her eyes were bloodshot. “It's –it's not good for him to be around me.”

Regina's eyes went a bit wider. Emma was admitting it. She was saying what Regina had been screaming in her own head since day one when she rolled up in her ancient car with only the clothes on her back and Regina's son under her arm. Regina swallowed her excitement and glanced around, wondering if somehow this could be some sort of trap.

“You said you'd get better.” 

“I tried.” Emma swallowed. “I couldn't—I can't do it. I can't stop. So I'm gonna go. Okay?” It almost sounded like she was waiting for Regina's approval. But Regina knew better. Emma Swan had always done whatever the hell she wanted regardless of what Regina said.

But still...Regina couldn't quite get over how haggard she looked now. The circles under her eyes that had been there when they'd first met were darker. Her skin was worse than ever, colorless and dry, and she looked like she was carrying a kind of tension that seemed to be pulling her inward, like she might suddenly snap if she moved the wrong way. She truly looked...defeated, and Regina was fairly sure she couldn't take the credit.

“Ms. Swan, you look terrible.”

Emma glared, but even that looked half-hearted. “Thanks for that.”

“No. I mean—you don't look like you're in any condition to drive.” It was true. As much as she'd enjoyed having Emma locked up for driving into the town sign, she wasn't in the mood for more property damage. The paperwork alone was a nightmare. 

“Why don't you come in?” It took her a moment to extract herself from the door and fully invite Emma inside. Emma looked at her warily. God, they'd really done a number on each other, hadn't they?

“Henry's at school,” she added. “And I'm sure he would find a way to blame me if you were horrible mutilated in a car wreck.” Not that she hadn't played the scenario through in her head a few times.

Emma looked like she was too tired to argue. She shrugged and followed her inside.

Regina placed the storybook front and center on the entryway table, and then changed her mind and put it in the drawer instead. Maybe she would avoid giving it back to Henry for a day or several hundred. Maybe she could say Emma had taken it with her, although she did not want to instigate another out-of-state runaway attempt.

Regina made tea, mostly on the pretense of having something to do as Emma sat silently at the table. She just looked...there was just this listlessness to her that made Regina wonder how she could have ever seen her as a threat. Emma seemed less and less like the woman who was out to take her son away from her and more like someone who was having trouble taking care of herself. Like someone who'd given up trying.

And instead of feeling what perhaps Dr. Hopper—that quack—would say was the normal response of pity, she felt angry at Emma instead. Not for all the usual things that she was mad at Emma for, but somehow, for giving up. For giving up on Henry when she'd sworn time and time again—to Regina's dismay—that she wouldn't. It made no sense to Regina. She wanted Emma out of their lives, so why was she feeling so personally affronted that someone was rejecting her child?

She placed a teacup in front of Emma, who didn't even acknowledge it and sat down at the opposite end of the table with her own.

“So where are you planning to go?”

Emma shrugged. “I don't know. Maybe back to Boston.”

“And starve to death?” She meant it as a dig, but Emma didn't even flinch. In fact, it took her too long to respond.

“It doesn't matter,” she finally said.

Regina felt another surge of anger. “It matters. To Henry.”

Emma shrugged again. “He's a kid, he'll get over it.” But the look on her face said she didn't quite believe her own words.

Regina had a few doubts herself, in a deep dark place that gave her nightmares about her son standing by while people hurt her. How far would this fairytale thing go, even if Emma wasn't around? Would that finally put it to rest in Henry's mind or would letting his precious 'Savior' destroy herself only drive him further away?

She looked over at Emma, picking at the ends of her splintering nails. “So you’re just giving up then?”

Emma lifted her eyes but not her head. “I tried,” she said again.

“What have you tried?” Regina countered. “Maybe this isn't something you can do on your own. Maybe you need some real help.”

“I don't have any money.”

“Well, surely there's something. Some program or group—”

“There's probably wait-lists or something.” Emma shook her head. 

“Have you actually checked?” She was tempted to accuse Emma of taking the easy way out, but a look at Emma's hands in white knuckled fists told her laziness wasn't the reason she wasn't being proactive.

“Look, I should go,” Emma said, standing up. Her eyes unfocused for a moment and she swayed on her feet before grabbing the back of the chair to steady herself.

“Are you okay, Ms. Swan?”

“I'm fine.”

But she clearly wasn't. And she probably hadn't been when she'd shown up in Storybrooke. And somehow Regina had been the only one to actually notice. Henry, of course, was just a kid. But the rest of the village idiots, they took everything at face value. If someone told them they were fine, then they believed it. The only one they'd never believed was her.

Regina considered her options, quickly, as Emma left the kitchen. Do nothing, and possibly have Henry hate her forever, or do what she had learned was the only real way to survive in life. Take control.

“Ms. Swan,” she said as Emma neared the door. “What if there was some place you could go, a facility, a program, somewhere that specialized in this—right now—and the money was taken care of. Would you?”

Emma eyed her suspiciously. “You're offering to stick me in the loony bin?”

“Free of charge.” She managed a wry smile at the sheer absurdity of it. Emma knew it. Her offering this was either a trap or a lifeline. Possibly both.

Emma was quiet. Then, “I don't think it'll help.”

“Then give up and go home. And then see what happens.” Regina folded her arms over her chest. She expected Emma to turn and leave then, but she didn't. 

“Why would you do that for me?”

“Look, Ms. Swan. I wish on every single star in every single galaxy that Henry had never found you. I wish he'd never brought you back to Storybrooke, and I certainly wish he'd never decided you were this Savior destined to make his and everyone's lives a magical fairytale.”

Emma looked down. Regina relished the sorrow on her face, but she continued. “But he did. And he does and if I ever want him to look at me like his mother again, and not some Evil Queen, then I can't just let you slip away. Because Henry won't. And I hope every damn day that he gives up this fairytale nonsense, but he's not going to forget you, no matter how much I wish for it.” As soon as she said it, she knew it was true. She hated it, but that didn't change anything.

Emma stood there, staring into a middle distance. Regina wondered if she had played the wrong card. If she should have tried to lie and say something worthless about the town needing her or remembering the friends she'd made or sugarcoated it just a little bit. But sugarcoating was Mary Margaret's thing, not hers. 

Emma's jaw was working. She kept looking like she was going to say something then changing her mind. She looked like she was thinking, deciding something and every choice was painful.

“You've been going around town, calling yourself his mother.” Regina couldn't keep the edge out of her voice. Hearing Henry call Emma that was the instant she knew she hated her. “If you think you even halfway deserve that title, then you'll accept my offer right now.”

Finally Emma shook her head. “Okay, then, fine. Yeah. If it's right now. Before I change my mind.”

She came back to sit at the kitchen table while Regina scrolled though a search on her phone. A ten-minute phone call and a credit card deposit later and she had secured Emma a bed at a private facility only forty-five minutes away. Not so close that she'd be accessible, but not so far that Regina couldn't keep tabs on her if she needed. 

Regina drove Emma herself. Sat with her in the austere yet polished waiting room, signed all of the financial paperwork. She felt a flutter of levity as Emma followed a woman in scrubs down a hallway and out of sight. She also felt something else. Something dark gnawing at her, knowing Henry wouldn't take this lightly and would probably weave it into the fairytale.

And maybe she felt just a tiny little sliver of something—call it compassion—for Ms. Swan.


	2. Honesty

She was home before Henry returned from school, making a batch of hot cocoa, with cinnamon in it. In all his fervency about having things in common with Emma, he seemed to have forgotten who had first served him the drink, and that it was in fact, a take on a spicier family recipe from her father's side.

She'd also bought two of the newest video games, one of which an online search assured her was not suitable for ten year olds but that they were all desperate for anyways. At this point, she thought, nearly anything was better than this fairytale fixation.

She hoped to put it off as long as possible, but as soon as Henry was in the door, he was talking about Emma and how he wanted to go meet her at Grannies', and she had to let him. And then she gave him the book and told him that Emma had had to go away from a while, but she would be back. She mentally crossed her fingers and decided they would all cross that bridge when they came to it.

Of course he peppered her with questions. She told him truthfully that Emma was sick and she would be out as soon as she got better. 

Of course he didn't understand. To him, sick was when you had the chicken pox and had to stay home from school. Illness wasn't a grown woman who—for perhaps many hard-to-explain reasons—couldn't bring herself to take a bite of an apple turnover. He was too wrapped up in fairytale magic, in good and evil and heroes and villains. All the shades of grey of a mental illness like Emma's eluded him. 

He was angry. Oh, he was angry. He accused her of kidnapping Emma and hiding her somewhere, of keeping her from her destiny to break the curse. She saw a portent of him as an angry, stomping teen and prayed they would be through this by then. He balled his little fists and he refused to back down. Eventually she told him that Emma was safe, she wasn't far and they could visit her together in a week when the doctors had given them permission.

But that wasn't good enough for him. “We're going tomorrow,” he declared. “If you're telling the truth, then you'll take me to see her,” he said, sneering in a way that told her he was indeed her son. 

She finally gave in. “Fine.” Explaining it all again wasn't going to get her anywhere. He had her stubbornness too.


	3. Busted

The next day, she picked up Henry from school and drove to the modern glass and concrete building she'd took Emma to the day before. It certainly didn't scream psychiatric clinic from the outside, and inside the only sign that they hadn't walked in to a more benign waiting room was the sheet of glass between them and the woman at the front desk.

“I'm here to see Emma Swan,” Henry announced as he ran to the window. The receptionist peered down at him. And checked her computer.

“I'm sorry, she's not cleared for visitors yet.” She squinted at Regina as she caught up to Henry. “Someone should have told you.”

“They did.” She turned to Henry, feeling smug, but glad he'd heard it from a third party. But Henry was running towards the large glass door that she and Emma had had to be buzzed through yesterday. Someone was coming out of it and Henry scooted around and got past, running down the hallway. 

Regina made a move to chase him and was stopped short as the door slid shut. The woman behind the desk was glaring at her. She glared back. “Well, let me in and I'll get him.”

But a larger woman in a pair of mismatched scrubs already had Henry by the wrist and was leading him back towards the door.

“She better take her hands off of my son.” Regina growled towards the front desk woman. 

The woman in scrubs pointedly let him go on their side of the glass. “No unauthorized visitors.” she said, staring both of them down. 

“Alright.” Regina nodded. “Henry, let's go.” She reached out to guide him towards the exit, but he flinched away from her and took off running. She sighed and followed, and found him standing by the locked car, staring straight ahead in little kid anger.

The trip back began silently. She tried to start a conversation about what he'd learned in school, even though she was loath to hear about another one of Mary Margret’s insipid kindness lessons, but he was having none of it.

“What'd she ever do to you?” he blurted out.

“I beg your pardon?”

“My mom.” Just his use of the word made her want to scream. “You want so badly to stop her from breaking the curse, I get that. But you didn't have to lock her up so far away.”

“I didn't—” although she kind of had. “Henry, It's for her own good.”

He just glared at her and she tried to ignore it and concentrate on the road. She'd walked right into that one. Of course the Evil Queen would lock up the princess. Of course she'd just done it to spite him.

She exhaled and tried to force her anger out with it. “Look—we can go visit her when the doctor says it's okay. Probably in a week. All right?”

He didn't say anything.

“All right?” she tried again.

“Promise?”

“Yes,” she said. “I promise.”


	4. The Prisoner

She'd hoped Henry would have forgotten their agreement, but of course he hadn't. A week to the day, he told her they were going to visit Emma. Not asked, told. She almost marveled at his brazenness. If he indeed thought she was someone as dastardly as a magical Evil Queen, why wasn't he scared that she would turn him into a frog or something? She chose to take it as a sign that he knew she'd never hurt him, despite what else he thought she was capable of. 

She called and asked the clinic if Emma was cleared for visitors and by the time she came for Henry at the end of the school day, she had the okay. She was secretly glad that she didn't have to break her promise, and also disappointed that her Emma-free week was now coming to an end. Now Henry would probably pester her to visit daily. The only up-side was that she would have to be present. No more clandestine conversations and secret operations with her son.

She followed Henry as a new woman at the desk buzzed them into the locked area and they followed a nurse in a lab coat to a room down the hall.

It looked distinctly like a hospital room. Regina hadn't known what to expect but she was glad there weren't padded walls or bars on the windows or anything like that. Henry already thought she was imprisoning Emma, she didn't need the decor to support the theory.

But as soon as she saw Emma sitting on a chair beside the bed, she wished she'd told Henry they couldn’t come. It would have been worth whatever tantrum he'd thrown. 

Emma looked, well, she looked...Regina was lost for words. She wasn't wearing her signature red leather jacked, but a pair of dull green hospital pajamas and a blanket wrapped around her. Her hair looked unwashed and there was a thin tube running from her nose to where it was pinned to a place on her shirt. She was slumped over in a way that Regina hadn't seen her before and she looked fairly out of it. She licked dry-looking lips and stared at them with tired eyes when they approached.

“Henry?” She said it like she wasn't sure. She blinked slowly, as though it was exhausting.

“Mom?” Henry sounded terrified. “Mom, what did she do to you?” He reached out and touched Emma's shoulder. She flinched and blinked blearily at him.

“I-I think I made mistake. I don't think I can do this. I can't be here.” Emma crossed her arms around herself and shivered, even though Regina was practically sweltering in the warmth of the room.

Henry turned to look at Regina with horrified eyes. Shaking his head, looking like he was on the verge of tears. “How could you do this to her?”

“Henry—”she started, but he didn't want to listen. He brushed past her and ran for the exit. She couldn't do anything but follow him out into the hallway, as the nurse buzzed them through the locked door and back to the car.

“You're evil,” he yelled at her, throwing his backpack onto the dirty pavement. “You want everyone to suffer so they'll be miserable like you!”

She stood there, staring at him, feeling near tears herself as his spilled over. “Henry.” She tried to go to him but he took off and ran towards the trees. Surely he wouldn’t. She stood there, defeated, waiting for him to give up and return. There was really nowhere to go from here, a fact she assumed they used to their advantage. She stood there, watching him pace near the edge of the trees as though deciding whether to attempt trekking cross-country back to Storybrooke. 

At this point, she wished she did have the magic powers he'd talked about. Then she could poof them both home and somehow keep him in his room, while she sat on her bed and drank wine until she forgot that her only son thought she was evil. No, not just thought, believed, with every ounce of his ten-year-old being.

“Henry, get in the car. Please.”

Eventually, he came back to the car and got in. She handed him his backpack. He took it. Then he looked at her, his little jaw working with quiet fury. 

“I hate you so much.” Then he said nothing the rest of the way home.


	5. The Reckoning

She made the decision that instant. Henry would not be going back. She didn't tell him, of course. But she would. Next time he asked, she would refuse and she'd refuse and refuse and refuse, even if he screamed and cried and told her he'd hate her forever. She would not let him go to that place again.

They would leave Emma there and she would get better or she wouldn't and it had nothing to do with Regina, or her son, anymore. She had done what she could, finding the place, paying for treatment, taking Emma there. She had no more obligation. She had done more than enough.

She fumed about it all night, after Henry shut himself in his room and refused to come down for dinner. She made him a tray and left it by his door. At least the alarm she'd placed on his bedroom window was working and she'd know if he tried to sneak out.

She finally got to sleep herself after it all, and was awakened at three AM by a phone call to the land line. She was barely awake when she automatically grabbed the receiver to stop the noise from waking Henry. Almost as an afterthought, she put the phone to her ear.

“I can't.” She heard Emma's voice, sounding like she'd just woken up too, hoarse and scratchy. “I can't, I can't, I can't.” Suddenly there was muffled noise on the other end, something that sounded like voices. Then silence. The call ended. 

Regina stared at the receiver for a moment, as if trying to digest what had happened. She thought about calling back, just to see what the hell was going on, but thought better of it. Not her problem. She finally fell asleep again, but she had a dream that Emma was drowning in quicksand. Regina watched it choke her, filling up her mouth and covering her nose while she stood by and did nothing. She watched Emma drown until suddenly Emma's face became Henry's and Regina started screaming, but it was too late. He was gone. She woke up in a cold sweat and didn't sleep for the rest of the night.

The next day, without fully meaning to, Regina made the drive back to the clinic. She had decided to tell Emma in person that Henry would not be visiting her anymore. It was simply the most forthright way to deliver the message, although if she was being completely honest with herself, the phone call and the dream were still riding on the fringes of her mind. Maybe a tiny, miniscule part of her wanted to check that Emma was indeed okay.

The same woman as the day before buzzed her in. Now all the staff seemed to be giving her looks. Probable silently admonishing her for Henry's behavior. She wanted to yell at them, challenge them to do better in her place. Be a single working mother with a kid who had disappeared into a world where she couldn't follow. 

She found Emma in her room, lying on the bed, facing the window. She appeared to be sleeping. Regina went up to her and shook her awake.

Emma opened her eyes blearily, looking much the same, if not slightly worse, than the day before. 

“Ms. Swan,” she started, intending to ask her what the hell she had thought calling her house at that time of night.

Emma blinked at her. “Is Henry with you?”

“No—and that's what I wanted—”

But Emma cut her off. “Good,” she said. 

“What do you mean?” Regina snapped, suddenly suspicious.

“I don't want him to see me like this, okay?”

Regina frowned. “You mean, besides yesterday?”

“Yesterday?” Emma looked confused.

“Yes. Don't you remember? My son now officially hates me.”

Emma blinked that slow blink of hers. “I'm sorry,” she mumbled. She didn't sound sorry, but then, she didn't sound anything except exhausted. The kind of exhausted that a person could only carry around with them for so long before it toppled them.

“I don't want Henry to see this,” Emma said again. 

“I agree.” Regina folded her arms imperiously, as though to distract from what she was about to say next. “How are you Ms. Swan? You sounded like you were having second thoughts.” She wondered if Emma had forgotten everything that had happened yesterday.

Emma licked her lips. “I had a bad day.” Her eyes were closed now. “I said I'd try one more.”

“Oh. Well.” She wasn't entirely clear on the particulars other than her own financial responsibility, but she suspected Emma was free to leave if she wanted. Now more than before, however, she hoped Emma wouldn't. She knew with more and more certainty that despite it not being up to her, Henry would never forgive her if anything happened to Emma.

“I should go,” she said. She turned to leave and was almost at the door when she heard Emma's voice.

“I wish I was a Savior. And a princess and that I had a mom and a dad who loved me.”

Regina set her jaw. They had very different takes on that book. “I wish my son didn't see me as a villain.”

She could just hear Emma's reply ring out as she entered the hallway. “Me too.”


	6. Truce

So it was settled. For the time being, Henry wouldn't visit Emma. At least she and Regina were on the same page with regard to that. Well, it seemed they were on the same page on a couple of things. The simple fact that Emma didn't want Henry to hate Regina made her feel slightly better. 

And even if, at home, Henry wasn't talking much to her anymore, at least he wasn't running off to Boston, or some such, and he couldn't just run off to visit her at Franny's or at Mary Margaret's on a whim. He stopped asking about Emma altogether for the time being. And even though he was probably cooking up some hare-brained scheme, Regina was grateful for a tiny bit of calm before the inevitable storm.

Unfortunately, Emma Swan was out of sight, but was never too far from Regina's mind. Of course not, since it now seemed her relationship with her son hinged on Emma's recovery. Regina didn't fully understand the treatment, only that it had seemed comprehensive and they were willing to take her calls. She phoned the clinic and was able to speak with a doctor, possibly because the next of kin on Emma's paperwork had been a ten-year-old boy who she was the legal mother of. The doctor let her know that Emma was making progress, and that should have reassured her, but it didn't. She wanted to go back there and see for herself what progress looked like. 

She made a second trip by herself. She left a little before her self-appointed lunch break and arrived at the clinic just as a nurse hooked the other end of the tube that was taped in place to Emma's nose to a bag of beige liquid on an IV pole.

“So that's how you eat now?” Regina raised an eyebrow and tried not to grimace.

“It's easier,” Emma said. “For now.” She seemed a little more with it, this time. 

Regina dragged a chair over and sat primly with her ankles crossed. “So how are you doing?”

Emma shrugged. “How's Henry?”

“He's good. He did very well on his math test.” But he still hates my guts, she finished silently. The only reason she even knew about the test was that she'd phoned the school and demanded Mary Margaret tell her every score he'd gotten.

“I was never good at math,” Emma said. “He must have got it from you.”

Regina squinted. Perhaps Emma was more out of it than she thought. “I don't think that's how it works, Ms. Swan.”

“You know what I mean.”

“Yes, well. I've gotten him tutoring when he needed it.”

“And other things he needed,” Emma said, almost wistfully.

Regina wasn't sure where this was leading, but it felt like some kind of trap. “Yes, well, that's what parents do.”

“Yeah.” Emma looked down, picking at her nails.

“He doesn't care though,” Regina admitted. “He's still talking about fairytales. And curses and waking everybody up.”

“I'm sorry.” Emma wrapped her arms around herself like she was cold. This time she really did sound sorry.

Regina scowled at her. “It's not your fault,” she said grudgingly. “You're not the one who gave him that damn book.”

“But I went along with it. I thought it was somehow helping him. Dr. Hopper had said not to disturb his delusions.”

“Yes, well, he's since been fired. His motivations as a therapist were not strictly ethical.” She'd long suspected that Archie Hopper's personal feelings against her had played a part in his not challenging—or indeed, getting to the bottom of—Henry's assertion that she was irredeemably evil.

She raised her chin as though it didn't bother her that she'd sent her son to—and paid for—therapy that might have done more harm than good. 

She leveled her gaze again at Emma in an effort to change the subject.

“Really Ms. Swan, if only you'd been a redhead or something, Henry might have dropped the whole thing sooner,” she said, deadpan.

Emma looked surprised, and then she laughed. Regina realized she hadn't heard Emma laugh, maybe ever. It sounded nice on her.

“But in all seriousness,” she paused to steel herself to say it. “You did bring him back from Boston safely. And you've been trying to look out for him, albeit in a misguided way. I suppose I should thank you for that.” And Emma was here, getting help—on Regina's dime, maybe—but she was, Regina had no doubt, doing it at least in part so she could be there for Henry.

Emma nodded. She looked cowed suddenly. “You know, before Henry ended up in the hospital, I, uh, I tried to take him with me back to Boston.”

Regina could hardly believe what she was hearing. “You what?”

“I know—I wasn't thinking straight. But he wouldn't go. He didn't want to leave. He almost crashed the car to stop us.”

Her anger and horror were building at the simultaneous thoughts of Henry being kidnapped _and_ being in a car accident. “And why are you telling me this now?” she asked, a dangerous edge to her voice

“Because, even when he could have gotten away from the Evil Queen and gone to live with the Savior, he wanted to stay. I just wanted you to know that.”

“Well,” Regina said grudgingly, settling back in her chair. “I suppose that's something.”


	7. The Wicked Stepmother

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> (Content warning: child marriage, murder (past))

Regina went again to visit Emma, and then again. Never for very long, and just a couple—maybe a few—times a week. Just to make sure Emma was okay. She couldn't seem to let go of the feeling that she had to keep seeing for herself how Emma was.

She told herself Emma could use the company, but in truth, maybe she could as well. It was lonely in that big house, after all. Henry still wasn’t speaking to her. And besides him, there really wasn't anyone else she spent time with. 

Graham was dead—not that they'd even done much in the way of talking anyways. She'd had a brief friend in Kathryn, but she'd left town after the whole David fiasco. She certainly wouldn't deign to talk to Mary Margaret or her ilk, and none of the other townsfolk were worth her time. The feeling was mutual, until, of course, there was some mayoral problem that she had to deal with.

Thus, Emma was one of the only adults she continued to have non-town-business-related talks with as the weeks and months wore on. Sometimes they talked. Sometimes they played cards. Regina was partial to Gin and Emma seemed to always win Crazy Eights. They compromised with Go Fish. It was an old favorite of Henry's. Somehow, he was only ten and she already felt like he had grown up and moved on. She had begun allowing him to spend some time with Mary Margaret after school as per his request, which seemed to make him happy. 

One day, they were playing Gin and Regina found herself having to concentrate harder to stay ahead. Emma was sharper these days. The feeding tube had been removed a week or so ago. She was washing her hair more frequently and she was back to wearing her boring old sweaters over the loose hospital scrub bottoms. She looked much more vibrant and on the whole seemed much more easy going.

That particular day, though, Emma seemed nervous as she dealt Regina a hand. 

Regina was just about to mention it, when Emma opened her mouth. “Henry came to see me the other day.”

Regina scowled. “With who?” He better not have hopped another bus, although she was pretty sure there were none in the area, and she kept a careful watch on her credit cards. Although that hadn't stopped him before. Pray he hadn't resorted to hitchhiking.

“He was with Mary Margaret.”

Her scowl deepened. Of course he was. The little goody-goody would probably do whatever Henry wanted. She was probably playing along with all this Evil Queen bullshit too. Why not, when she was cast as Snow White? Regina managed to unlock her jaw. “And how was that?” she asked calmly.

“Okay. It was good to see Henry.” Emma sounded careful. “But Mary Margaret was a little weird.”

That perked her up. “How so?”

“Well, she kind of kept her distance, like I was contagious or something. And when she did finally talk to me, it was in this high quiet voice, like I was one of her students. She's really been there for me before, but I think I make her nervous now.”

“Join the club.” Regina smirked. Although she suspected Emma wouldn't relish it quite the way she did. “Our little Mary Margaret likes to believe every problem can be solved with love and compassion. When reality bleeds through, it scares her.”

“You don't think that's true about love?”

Regina gave her a look.“You tell me.” It hadn't been love that had compelled her to get Emma help, or at least, not love for her. And Mary Margaret, as full of love and compassion she might be, as far as Regina knew, hadn't done anything useful. 

“Is that why you hate her so much?” Emma asked.

Regina's mirth was instantly gone. She scowled again. “Among other reasons.”

“What's the deal between the two of you?”

“We have history.”

“What sort of history?”

“Just, history—that 's all you need to know.”

Emma leaned forward over her cards “You'd rather I take Henry's version of it?”

Regina reordered her own hand. “And just what is Henry's version?” Although she bet she could guess.

“He said you're her evil stepmother.”

“I believe it's Wicked Stepmother. Evil Queen. Get your misogynistic stereotypes right.” Regina quipped as she chose a good card.

“Is that true, though, you were her stepmother?”

“It's your turn, Ms. Swan.”

Emma put her cards face down on the table. “So, answer me.”

Regina exhaled in frustration. “Yes, if you must know, I was married to her father, for a time.”

“Henry said you kicked her out of the house after her father died. When she was just a kid.”

Regina fumed. She bet that tidbit of information wasn't in the precious storybook. “She wasn't a child, Ms. Swan, she was fifteen. And she's fine. She's found true love and her true calling and she's beloved by the entire town. So there—everything worked out.” She tapped the table, hoping Emma would hurry up and play. 

But she didn't. “How old were you?” she asked.

Regina shrugged, playing like she had no idea where this was going. “How old was I, when?”

“When you married her father. I know you're not much older than her. How old were you?”

There was no getting out of this one unless she stood up and walked out, and her hand was too good to give up. She put her cards carefully face down on the table and looked at Emma. 

“If you must know, Ms. Swan, I was fifteen, when I married Mary Margret’s father.” She waited for the shift in expression on Emma's face. Maybe it would be horror, or disgust. She hoped it wouldn't be pity. She hated pity. 

But whatever Emma was thinking, her face didn't show it. Good thing they weren't playing for money. “Was that even legal?” she asked. 

“With parental consent and the right court official, it was,” she said matter-of-factly, like it was something she told people all of the time. “He was a very rich man and my mother was an opportunist. She wanted desperately to be a part of that world.”

“By selling off her kid? And what about Mary Margaret? Didn't she notice her stepmother was basically her age?”

Regina shifted in her chair. The idea rankled, but she had to cut Mary Margaret some slack. “I looked mature for my age, Ms. Swan. And she was still a child—to them, anyone older than they are seems like an adult.”

“So that's not why you hate her?”

“I don't—” she started, but then realized there was no point in lying to Emma about it. What did it matter if she hated the woman? “I hate her because I was planning to run away. It wasn't going to be easy. But I'd met someone, someone I could trust. He said he would help me get off the grounds, out of town and away. I had no actual money of my own and there were eyes on me everywhere. If not Leopold's bodyguards, then my mother would find me and drag me back. The only way I was going to get out was with help. And Mary Margaret destroyed that.”

Emma was rapt. “What happened?”

“She told my mother about my plan. My mother killed the boy who said he'd help me and that was it. I gave up ever getting out of there.”

“Your mother killed someone?”

“She was a vindictive woman.” 

“How'd she get away with that?”

Regina sneered. “You'd be surprised what being rich can accomplish.”

“So, then what, you just, stayed?”

Regina squared her shoulders. “Basically, yes.” There were a few more twists in the stories, not to mention her dear old husband meeting an untimely, but satisfying end.

Emma was silent. Regina was impressed, most people in Storybrooke wouldn't stand to listen to her version of events. They preferred Mary Margret’s perspective.

“When he died, I was free. And until his precious daughter turned eighteen, I was also his sole beneficiary.”

“So you kicked her out.”

“Yes Ms. Swan, I did. My mother escaped abroad and I basked alone in empty, pointless wealth until Mary Margaret took it all back three years later. I managed to retain enough in investments and such that I live comfortably. And of course, I'm still the mayor. I've become quite good, at, let's say, politics and I've garnered some 'less than scrupulous' allies, so for now, I'm still in charge.”

“In the town you were sold as a child bride?”

Regina narrowed her eyes. “In a place I control. Where I still have Mary Margaret and the townspeople under my thumb, just how I want it.”

“You don't ever think of leaving?”

Regina glowered as she picked up her cards. “You deal with your baggage your way, Ms. Swan, I'll deal with mine.”


	8. The Lone Witch

She decided it would be better not to fight it. She allowed Henry his afternoons with Mary Margaret and his covert—they thought—visits with Emma. If it would keep him happy and keep him from running away and possible getting himself hurt then she was okay to let him think he'd pulled one over on her. And because he thought he was getting away with something, Henry was much more pleasant at home. He still wasn't talking much, but he was at least, for the most part, pretending to listen to her.

On alternating lunch breaks, she went to visit Emma, who continued to seem like she was doing much better. She was starting to win their card games more consistently too, if Regina didn’t try too hard, and she was even starting to joke. She had a dark sense of humor like Regina, and she didn't seemed phased by a lot. “Except the odd apple turnover,” Emma said wryly when Regina had mentioned it.

As for why Regina continued to look forward to their visits, it wasn't that she cared to see Emma, she told herself. No, rather it was this new font of information that Emma had on Henry. He told her everything now, much to Regina's dismay. But the thing was, Emma was sharing it freely, and it wasn't because she didn't know how valuable it was, because Regina could see in her eyes that she did. But for some reason, she chose not to hold it over Regina's head.

Not like Mary Margaret and that damn book and the visits that she was oh-so-happy to keep from Regina. She wondered that if their roles had been reversed if Miss Blanchard would have been okay with Regina taking her child to a psychiatric hospital every other day.

But Emma's information was invaluable. She told Regina about what Henry now liked—a new tabletop board game he'd seen online—and what he didn’t like—the new video game she had bought him. Emma told her about what he was learning in school and the kids he'd made friends with—currently he had an almost-friend in a kid named August who was always getting into trouble.

Emma also told her about the storybook and all the pages in it he refused to show Regina, including all the extra pages he'd added, hand drawn by himself. It seemed he'd found a character for almost everyone he knew in town. There were a surprising number of fairies, princesses and pirates, but there was currently only one witch. Her. 

“And so what does he think my plan is?” she asked Emma again one day when the meandering storylines and character backstories and magical items weren't staying straight in her mind anymore. Not to mention th paradox of him growing up in a town where she had apparently stopped time for 28 years.

“You wanted to take away everyone else's happy ending. And keep them for yourself.”

“So he thinks I want everyone to be miserable so I can be happy.”

Emma grimaced slightly. “Pretty much.”

“And that's why I'm evil? Because I want to be happy?”

“No, because you want everyone else to be miserable.”

She sneered. “I don't want everyone else to be miserable. I just don't care if they're happy or not.” Besides Henry, of course.

Emma shrugged. “Maybe that.”

Regina bristled and sat straighter. “Look, Ms. Swan, this town has never given me anything I didn't fight tooth and nail for. I keep it from drying up and floating away like all the other small mining towns in this area. If I don't smile enough or I don't invite them to tea with fucking bluebirds on the window-ledge then I'm sorry, but I do my job.”

Emma nodded and shrugged. “Yeah, and Henry's a kid. I guess they see what they want to see. And he's picked up on the superficial stuff and turned it into a fairytale.”

Regina took a deep breath. It wasn't Emma's fault, but Regina was just so tired of all of this. She softened her tone. “I just wish he didn't want to see me as an evil witch.”

“Evil Queen,” Emma corrected. “And hey, at least you're not a werewolf.”

Regina raised an eyebrow. “Really? Who's a werewolf?” Maybe Leroy?

“Ruby, from the diner.”

“Ruby?” She laughed. Beautiful, willowy, scantily-clad Ruby, who had definitely wandered through one or two of her own fantasies. “Is that because she doesn't shave her armpits?”

“Probably,” Emma agreed. “You might want to have a talk with that kid about how women with natural body hair are not monsters.”

Regina laughed, but then she sobered up when the reality of that hit. “He hasn't talked to me in a very long time. “ She felt herself deflate.

“He will,” Emma said. “He has to.” She picked up her cards again. “One day he's gonna wake up and realize how good he's got it with you, how most kids would kill to have a mom who drives two hours out of her way every day just to hear how he did on his math test.”

Regina swallowed and blinked. The words had affected her more than she'd thought possible. It turned out it was something she'd really needed to hear. “Thank you, Ms. Swan.”

Emma just shrugged and played the winning hand.


	9. Sweet Release

It had been eight months. Winter was settling in heavily on the bare trees around town. Personally, Regina didn't mind the frigid temperatures, but with Henry still not talking to her, she was dreading the Christmas season. 

She'd tried with him again and again, but it wasn't getting any better. If anything, it was getting worse. When he wasn't with Mary Margaret, he was in his room with the door closed. Even listening at it netted her nothing. He was either playing video games with headphones or scrawling new pages to add to his fairytale book. She knew by now to let him be. At least he wasn't running away, or trying to sneak off to Emma's hospital by himself. He was safe, and that was what mattered, she told herself.

But the Christmas decorations that every single storefront seemed to insist on putting up, and the general merriment of the townspeople were getting on her last nerve. She’d already kiboshed the Christmas tree in the town's main intersection, citing environmental and budgetary reasons. And only at the last minute had she lifted the red tape she'd used to threaten closure of the Christmas Festival at the town's library. She was already the Evil Queen, she'd decided she didn't want to be the Grinch as well.

And then it happened, just a little before Thanksgiving, the doctors said Emma would be able to be discharged in a couple of weeks. Her weight was stable, she was doing well in therapy and they felt she could maintain her eating without the constant supervision. 

“But it will be difficult for her,” the doctor told Regina at the meeting she awkwardly attended, feeling like an imposter, sitting there as if she were family or someone who hadn't wished death upon Emma less than a year ago. 

“She's been under supervision, had constant support and frequent therapy. The transition to life outside the facility can be jarring. She'll be in charge of her eating again, and she'll still have therapy, but she'll have to cope with new stresses that come up in daily life. a good support system will help her continue her recovery.”

Regina nodded, not sure of what to say. It wasn't like she could admit she was just an enemy that had taken pity on Emma and hadn't exactly thought this far ahead. Or that part of her had hoped that Henry would be over her by now and Emma would just go back to Boston and visit Henry on holidays like some kind of fucked up modern day extended family.

But the more she thought about it, the more Storybrooke seemed like the only place for Emma to go. Not just because Henry still hadn't cut out this Savior nonsense. Not because she had no idea how Emma would suddenly cope if she went back to whatever sad little life she'd had in Boston. But also, maybe, because a part of her was hoping that having Emma closer would lure Henry back to her. If he could see they were getting along, maybe he would drop all of this good and evil bullshit. 

Besides, Mary Margaret and most of those other idiots were all do-gooders who were probably always looking for some kind of project. As oblivious as most of them had been, supporting Emma would be right up their alley.

Or maybe not. Mary Margaret, Emma had confessed, was trying her best, and sometimes knew just the right thing to say, but otherwise she still seemed at a loss with Emma's current situation. 

“She brought you chocolates?” Regina had exploded with laughter when she'd told her.

“Well, she tried. But they don't allow outside food. It's like at the movies.“

Regina shook her head. “That poor little fool.”

“It was a nice thought,” Emma said, trying to soften the blow like she always did when it came to Mary Margaret. “I guess she thought I'd been eating what I'd said I had when we lived together. Or maybe it's like something to work toward. She said she'd get me some once I was out.”

“Because by then you'll be magically cured,” Regina said sarcastically. She was starting to wonder if it wasn't just an act, if Mary Margaret really just saw the world through rainbow-filled rose-tinted glasses, despite what was going on around her.

Emma ducked her head a little, “Hey, I'm working on it.”

Regina nodded. “I know.” She'd been doing the exact thing Regina had charged her with all those months ago at Henry's bedside. Fix herself up or leave town. It was only fair that when she got out, she could be a part of Henry's life.


	10. The Savior

And so it was arranged that Emma would stay at Granny's Bed and Breakfast, and eat at the Diner, where all the meals could be accounted for on the meal plans she was given to follow. It was supposed to ease the transition to 'normal' eating, but three meals a day at Granny's was enough to make Regina want to vomit and never eat again. However, she decided to keep that little thought to herself.

She surprised Henry when, on Emma's first day back she suggested they all eat lunch together. Emma agreed. Henry seemed mostly suspicious. He was still under the impression that it had been his cajoling and storytelling and not Regina's offering to pay Emma's room and board at Granny's for the time being that had kept her in town. 

Regina supposed she could have told him her part in it all, but by this point, she was sure he would twist it to make her out to be the villain. Nothing good came of telling Henry about any of the things she was trying to do for him. And as much as she detested doing something good and getting no glory, she seemed to be doing a lot of that lately.

And so they sat at the booth in the middle of the wall, her and Henry on one side and Emma on the other. Regina had already eaten, but she ordered some kind of sandwich in solidarity and watched Emma dutifully eat an omelette. She even took more than a couple of sips of the unsolicited hot chocolate—with cinnamon—that Henry had ordered on her behalf.

Henry, of course, had brought along the book. He thudded it onto the table halfway through their meal. Emma blinked. Regina only glared, still having nightly fantasies about taking a torch to that thing without him noticing.

“I thought you should have the book for now,” he said to Emma. “So you don't forget again. And I've added a bunch of new stuff. You should look at that. Privately.” He glanced at Regina in a not very subtle way and she tried to pretend she hadn't noticed. “But it's okay if she knows now. Because you're so close to breaking her evil curse.”

Regina felt herself deflate. She wasn't sure what was worse—plotting against her behind her back or in front of it like she wasn't even there. He hadn't been quite so adamant about the 'evil' thing in the last little while and she'd hoped he was getting over it, but clearly all he'd been doing was storing it up.

“And everyone'll be happy again,” he went on assuredly. “Because they'll remember who they are.”

“Henry—” Emma tried to interrupt but there was no stopping him when he was like this. Regina should know.

“And you're the only one who can do it, 'cause you're the hero—you're the Savior.”

“Henry, stop. Stop!” Emma banged on the table.

Henry's usual dogged expression faltered. 

“That fairy talk stuff isn't real.” Emma jabbed a finger at the book. “It's not how life works, and saying it is isn't helping anyone. It's not helping me, or your mom. Or you.”

“But—”

“I'm not the Savior. I'm not a hero. I'm just a person. I'm just a person who is trying to be better, trying to get better, and I get that that's not enough for you, but I really, really wish it was.” Her eyes were sad and Regina could tell she meant it. “But I'm not a part of your book. And I _don't want_ to be.”

“But—”

But Emma cut him off again, “And your mother isn't a villain. She's not evil. She saved my life. And she's had to put up with a lot of shit to do it.”

“Emma—” As much as she appreciated the vote of confidence, She could tell Emma was heading down a dangerous road. 

But Emma kept going. “You think she's the one who wants everyone to be miserable, but it's not her who's hurting the people who care about her. It's you.”

“Emma. Stop.” Regina could see what her words were doing to Henry. Her accusation—however truthful it might be—had stunned him into silence with a painful expression.

“If you can't see that all she wants—and all I want—is for you to be happy, if that's not good enough for you, then you don't deserve either of us!”

“Emma! That's enough.” But it was too late. Henry was up and running for the exit before she could stop him.

Emma was on her feet too, a look of anguish on her face before she turned and headed in the opposite direction, towards the washroom. Regina hesitated for a split second, like she was going to go after her and then turned her attention towards her fleeing son.

He was gone by the time she got out of the diner, no doubt running as far as his little legs would take him. She couldn't chase him in her heels, so she got back in her car, made a quick round of the playground and the schoolyard before returning home to change shoes and start the search in earnest.

A very small, very sad part of her wondered why she was still bothering. He obviously didn't want to be anywhere near her. The only reason he hadn't managed to run away again was that Emma had been unable to care for him. Once she inevitably apologized, he'd be right back at her doorstep. Regina sighed. She was just tired.

To her utter surprise—it was only as an afterthought that she'd checked there at all—she found him in his room, face down on his bed. It was the most little-kid thing he'd done in a long time. She approached him tentatively, worried that he might bolt. 

“Henry?” she said carefully, bracing herself for a tirade of accusations.

Instead, he turned a tear-streaked face to look up at her. “It's me, isn't it? I'm the curse.”

“What?” She was taken aback. Not quite sure what was happening, but automatically found herself wanting to reassure him. “Oh, Henry, no. You're not any kind of curse.”

“I thought it was something that you'd done. But it was me. I was doing it, like Emma said. I was making everyone miserable. I was the one who was trying to tell everyone who they were supposed to be and I wasn't listening when they said they didn't want to. I thought you were the villain, but I was wrong, wasn't I? You're just a person.”

She'd never been happier to be called 'just a person' before.

“And Emma's not a hero. She's just...” he trailed off and looked at her again with tear-blurred eyes. “I'm sorry, mom. I—I just wanted things to get better. I wanted a happy ending so bad.”

“Henry,” she said, in her gentlest voice, her heart fluttering at hearing him call her mom again. “No one can fault you for wanting to see magic in the world. And things will get better. It's just—it’s not any one person's job to make that happen.” _Especially not an outsider_, she finished silently. But she had to admit to herself that everything had not been fine before Emma Swan showed up. Henry had been having a rough time and instead of being there for him the way he'd obviously wanted, she'd sent him off to Dr. Hopper and distanced herself even further, while trying to remain in control.

And she had thought Emma had gotten the long end of the stick, but where Regina had gotten derision, Emma had been put on a pedestal so high, she'd break her neck falling off it. Regina could see how that might have messed with her already distressed mind. 

“Emma _is_ brave,” she finally said. “Maybe not in the way you thought, but she's doing a very hard thing because she wanted to get better, for herself, and for you.” She realized it was probably the kindest thing she'd said about Emma to anyone. And it was true.

“She was really sick, wasn't she?” Henry said miserably. “And I didn't even see it, I just kept pushing her to wake up, to be who I wanted her to be. But I was the one who was supposed to wake up. I—I guess I got it backwards. I'm sorry.”

“Oh, Henry, it's okay. Those kinds of problems are hard for anyone to see. And I'm sure at times, I might act like a little bit of a...villain. But I wouldn't do anything to hurt you.” She exhaled. “And that includes hurting Emma.”

He looked at her with bright eyes. “You really mean that, don't you?”

“Of course I do.”

“I love you, mom.”

She felt her eyes well up. It had been so long since he'd said it and this time it actually sounded like he meant it. 

“I love you too, Henry.”


	11. Ding Dong...

She was happier than she'd been in a very long time. Things weren't back to the way they had been before all Henry's fairytale nonsense, they were better. He seemed happier now. He seemed happy to be with her again. And she felt herself relax a little, loosen her grip now that he wasn't struggling to get away. 

Best of all, he was talking to her again, smiling, laughing. She couldn't believe she had gone so long without hearing him laugh. A part of her was absolutely terrified that he would shut himself off again, but the rest of her was taking in every moment.

He didn't bring up the book in conversation again, and she hadn't seen a trace of it until the one auspicious day when he went to school with it and returned home without it. She couldn't help smiling when she saw him empty-handed after school and hugged him extra hard as he flew into her arms. 

She imagined he'd returned the book to Mary Margaret where it belonged. Regina hoped she enjoyed his annotations. She'd managed to sneak a peek, now that he wasn't secluded in his room, but sitting at the kitchen table, working through the beautiful glossy antique book and blotting out the face that looked like hers with a permanent black marker. 

“So no one else gets confused,” he'd said when she asked him. She grinned when she imagined Mary Margaret receiving the heirloom book back with his new additions. Beside the pictures of the blond-haired Savior he'd written, NOT EMMA SWAN in big bold letters and underlined it twice. 

She'd had to sit on her hands not to add her own...parting note. Perhaps something obscene among the pages so Mary Margaret would never give the book to another child again. But she'd decided against it. After all, Henry had moved on. Let some other kid believe whatever the hell they wanted, as long as it didn't affect her.

And of all the changes in her life, she couldn't forget Emma Swan. Emma had regretted what she'd said to Henry immediately—how harsh she'd been. Regina supposed she imagined she'd blown it with him forever—Regina could see it in her eyes that next day when she brought Henry by the diner.

But she imagined much of Emma's guilt was assuaged when Henry ran to her and apologized and hugged her with as much force as he ever had.

Regina asked for a private word and then found herself not knowing what to say, how to express her—yes, the word was gratitude. Overcome suddenly by the thought that her son would likely still be ignoring her if not for Emma, she hugged her, quickly, lightly and felt silly afterward. But the utter shock on Emma's face was nearly worth it.

After that, she took Henry to see Emma often, eating dinners with her, always at the diner, of course. Regina was sick of the food in a matter of days, but she didn't care so much, as Henry seemed happy and Emma seemed comfortable and all in all it felt good. Like they were part of a kind of family. 

And it was nice having another adult to talk to, with Henry chattering on between them. Even out of the psychiatric hospital, without the drama of Henry's fantasies, they managed to get along, for Henry's sake. Now that Emma no longer seemed a threat, Regina was, perhaps, starting to see a little bit of the good that Henry had seen in her from the beginning. Maybe she wasn't a fairytale hero, but she wasn't afraid to stand up for herself, or for Henry.

Emma got her Sheriff position back. This time, Regina didn't lift a finger, except perhaps to expedite the paperwork. The townspeople were more than happy that Emma had returned. And perhaps because of that, perhaps because it was clear that Emma and Regina were now on speaking terms, and in fact, getting along, the townspeople had mellowed towards Regina.

Or maybe it was that she could smile again without feeling like she was baring her teeth at an enemy. She had her son back and what's more—he believed in her again, and Emma believed in her now, and she had spent so much time being the only one who believed in herself, that she felt like she was now standing three feet taller.


	12. Magic of the Season

Regina invited Emma over to their house for Christmas Eve. Or rather, Henry asked her if Emma could come over and she said yes, even though she'd had the idea long before. She'd been planning without officially meaning to. They asked Emma together and she hesitated, and Regina wondered if she was suddenly worried about infringing, or if it was something else. She told Emma she refused to eat at the diner on Christmas, and they would take her meal to go, or she would do her best to make sure their dinner fit into her allotted meal plan.

It surprised Regina that as the day rolled around, she was nervous. It was the first time she'd invited Emma into their home without silently wishing she'd leave. The old feelings of rivalry bubbled up when she saw her standing at the door in a toque and her seemingly only leather jacket, shivering in the cold. But she reminded herself how much had changed in the last year. And how much better everything was now, ultimately because of Emma.

They ate the dinner Regina herself had prepared. Emma ate her food and stayed away from the washroom for a good two hours after. Regina had her eye out of course, and she was by no means too polite to call Emma out, and Emma knew it. 

Henry was on his best behaviour. For the first ten years it had only been him and Regina at holidays. Her mom was gone and her dad was dead and she'd had no inclination to include Mary Margaret in any family festivities. 

Although, in her heightened spirits, Regina found herself even softening on the idea of Mary Margaret. She did care for Henry, after all. But just wait until she and her boyfriend David got married and popped out a few kids. Then Mary Margaret would find out just how much she liked everyone second guessing her parenting choices.

After dinner, Regina—loathe to let the dishes sit—began to clean up. Emma jumped up to help and even Henry followed suit until they were listening to Henry sing Christmas songs and all of the dishes had been washed, dried and put away. Regina even joined in for a few warbly off-key verses before falling silent again to listen to the others. Emma and Henry could both sing fairly well. The more time Regina spent with both of them together, the more she saw the similarities, and she didn't hate them. Not now that seh didn't feel like Emma was a threat to their relationship.

One of their only steadfast traditions was that Henry would open presents Christmas Eve. For his first few school-aged years, he had made her a present in school. One year it was a cardboard bird house, no doubt the brain-child of Mary Margaret, which Regina privately scoffed at. 

But the last year, he'd made her nothing, and she had told herself that it was for the best because now she didn't have to pretend that whatever messy afterthought he presented her was valuable.

Except now she saw how much it was. And she waited nervously as she and Emma sat at opposite ends of the couch while Henry rummaged under the tree. She'd suggested to him that they wait until the next day, but he was insistent that they do presents right then.

Regina had to bite her tongue to keep from lashing out when Henry hugged them both equally hard for their presents to him. Hers had been a new gaming console, and Emma's had been a new game. She swallowed her old need to beat Emma and did her best to smile. She was, after all, grateful he was accepting and appreciating her gifts again. 

And her restraint had been the right choice, she realized, when she unwrapped the small package he thrust into her hands. In it was a ring with a stone in a striking deep purple—her favorite color—set in a filigree of silver banding that looked like intertwined branches of a tree.

“Oh, Henry,” she couldn't help exclaiming as she tested the ring on her finger, knowing she'd have to find somewhere to have it sized. But to her surprise, it fit perfectly. 

Henry was beaming at her, looking incredibly pleased with himself. She had to keep blinking tears out of her eyes. Embarrassed, she wiped at her face.

“Do you like it? I picked it out myself and I even made sure I took a ring of yours with me like Emma said to make sure it would fit.”

“I love it.” She hugged him hard and glanced over at Emma, not to gloat, but with a look of gratitude. Emma grinned at her, as she held her own little gift on her lap.

Emma's Christmas present from Henry turned out to be a crudely made VW bug with a loop of ribbon glued onto it. “It's great,” she exclaimed, and she seemed to really mean it.

“It's a Christmas ornament. For your tree.”

A sad look flickered on Emma's face, possibly because the rooms at Granny's had no trees.

But Regina should have known Henry was smarter than that. 

“I know you don't have a tree,” he went on. “So you can hang it here. Right, mom?”

Still overcome by her own gift, Regina was feeling generous. “Of course.”

Perhaps sensing it was something a kid should do, Emma offered the ornament to Henry. “Do you want to put it on?”

“No, you have to. It's tradition.”

Regina wasn't sure what tradition he was talking about. Usually she'd hire someone to trim the tree and Henry would try to help, but he'd be a nuisance or get distracted and the tree would be finished to her specifications. When she'd deign to add his homemade ornaments to the decor, they would be subtly out of camera-frame for any mayoral photo ops. This was the first year they'd actually decorated the whole tree together.

Emma stood up and approached the eight-foot Balsam fir, decorated half in expensive designer red and white glass ornaments, and half in Henry's old school projects—this time hung conspicuously in the front. Emma found a spot a little out of the way, on the low side of middle. The little yellow car fit right in. 

Despite Henry's pleas to stay up, Regina sent him to bed. It was already well past time. And even when Henry turned his puppy dog eyes on Emma to intercede on his behalf, she raised her hands in surrender and shook her head. Regina was secretly pleased she knew not to interfere.

He hugged them both tightly on his way to bed, and once they'd both tucked him in—which Regina knew she couldn't refuse without ruffling feathers, Emma turned to leave.

She hesitated by the front door. “Actually, I did get one more present.” She pulled a wrapped package out of her bag. “To put under the tree. From Santa, you know? If you're okay with it?”

Regina almost told her that Henry hadn't believed in Santa Claus for at least two years now, as strange as that might seem for a kid who had been convinced his entire town was full of fairytale characters. But she held her tongue. Emma seemed so hopeful.

“Sure.” Regina gestured to the tree. And Emma placed the gift underneath it, near the back, where it was nearly obscured by the wrapping that Regina had decided, for once, to leave for the morning. 

“It's a book,” Emma explained as she stood up.

Regina frowned. “No more fairytales, I hope.”

“There's no princesses in this one. No Evil Queens. Just a kid who finds out he's a wizard and has his own power to fight the dark forces. That's what the guy at the store said anyway.”

“I'm sure he'll enjoy it,” she said tersely. It still made her nervous, the possibility that he might turn any new thing into another crusade. She just had to hope his need to escape into a fantasy world was abating, at least so far as she was concerned.

They stared at each other a moment. Regina realized that despite how much time they had spent together in the last month, none of it had been just the two of them. And it was strange now, to be alone with Emma, but without the spectre of Henry's rejection of her hanging over her head. 

There was no more reason for them to talk, of course. She no longer had to pump Emma for information on Henry, and with him more present in her life again, and the townspeople warming up to her, she no longer felt quite so alone.

But despite that, she realized, she did miss their visits together.

“Ms. Swan,” she started. “Emma. Would you like to stay”—she couldn't think of what to offer, so she settled for a classic—“for some tea?”

Emma hesitated, shifting her weight with her leather jacket over one arm. Regina gave her til the first of January before she cracked and bought herself a decent winter coat. 

Regina could almost see the wheels turning in her head.

“Come on,” Regina said, a little surprised at herself for caring. “For old time sake.” Even though it hadn't been that long ago, and even though the old times were not something she, nor she suspected, Emma wanted to remember, Emma put her jacket back on the hook and took off her toque and followed Regina back towards the still-roaring fire.

Regina brought her a cup of tea and poured herself another glass of wine. They sat at opposite ends on the couch. And Regina suddenly had no idea what to say.

Emma sat silently as well. Maybe all of their conversations precipitated on Henry were just that, conversations about the only thing they had in common. 

After a few awkward moments, while Regina sipped heavily on her wine, Emma spoke up. 

“Thanks,” she said, “for inviting me over.”

“Nonsense. Henry insisted,” she replied, suddenly not wanting to appear as if she had been at all sentimental. 

“You let him, then. Thanks. That was the first real Christmas I've ever really had—I mean, the first one I ever really felt a part of.”

“Really? How is that?”

Emma shrugged. “I mean, maybe the people who adopted me as a baby did something, but I don't remember. I was back in foster homes by three and then...” She shrugged again. “Some of them didn't celebrate, and some did. But it was always different, either just some weird old guy in a Santa suit handing out candy canes or some very specific list of family traditions I felt like I was supposed to know. I remember in this one house they made fun of me because I didn't realize I was supposed to get my foster parents a present. I was eight. I had no idea.”

Emma looked at her hands. “I guess I did the same thing today. I just realized I don't have anything for you.”

Regina gave her a smirk she hadn't used in a while. “I don't need anything from you, Ms. Swan.” She realized how abrasive that was as she was reminded of the ring on her finger. “I mean, it was nice of you to help Henry with his present.” She couldn't help smiling down at the ring again. Even though she knew it was merely costume jewelry, it was already one of her favorites.

“I want to pay you back. For the hospital. And Granny's.”

Regina snorted. “You couldn't afford it.” She'd only been a small town Sheriff for a week now.

“Then I'll start payments or something.”

Regina shook her head. “It's fine.” Last year, she would have relished having something like this to hold over Emma's head, but now, well, she could be silently pleased with herself and still be an altruistic person.

“It's a lot of money,” Emma went on. “I finally looked it up—there were cheaper options, and some programs were free.”

Now it was Regina's turn to shrug. “I look at it as money towards Henry's well-being. I spare no expense. For Henry.”

Emma nodded. “Well I can pay for my own from here on out.”

“You're going to continue to stay at Granny's?” After their wonderful Christmas meal, Regina wasn't sure how much more of Granny's cooking she could endure, even for Henry's sake. “Didn't she have a flood last week?”

Emma shrugged. “Yeah, and I had to switch rooms, but it still makes the most sense. I mean, Mary Margaret offered to have me stay there again, but with her and David, it's a little...uh..._crowded_.”

Regina grimaced, imagining sharing a wall with the happy couple, who even in public had a hard time keeping their hands off each other. 

“I suppose.” Regina did have another idea, but she wasn't sure if it was the wine talking or the new lightness in her heart after a wonderful day she'd never have believed possible a few months ago. Whatever it was, she was feeling like nothing could take away what she had. “I suppose, maybe it would be alright if you came to stay with us for a little while.” A part of her didn't mind having Emma where she could keep an eye on her, after all

“Stay here?” Emma looked confused. “I couldn't.”

“Don't tell me you've fallen in love with the food at Granny's.”

“No. That's not it. It's just...” she trailed off, staring at Regina like she was trying to read her intentions.

Was it wrong that she felt a little thrill at finally feeling like the hero? “I make lunch and dinner for myself and Henry every day and night, Ms. Swan. One more is not going to be a problem. I'm sure we can work out whatever is on your meal plan.”

“I—” Emma looked like she was truly at a loss for words. Regina considered it a victory. “You wouldn't mind me being that close to Henry?”

Regina narrowed her eyes. “As long as you don't have any ulterior motives.” She took a breath, stealing herself. “It's because of you, Ms. Swan, I have my son back. Because of your little speech. He may have come around in time, but with him, every moment is precious to me, and for that, I thank you.” The wine had definitely gone to her head. 

“I'm glad he sees how much you care about him.” Emma bit her lip. “I don't know, when I first met him, I didn't know how he couldn't see that, but he was so sure, and then I started believing him and I told myself I was being there for him by going along with what he was saying. I knew I was driving a wedge between you, but I just wanted so badly to have a second chance, I just jumped in and couldn't let go, not when he kept saying he needed me.” She looked sad.

Regina wasn't sure what to say. She couldn't manage anything but the truth. “You wouldn't believe how much it hurt that first day, when he called you his real mom.”

“I know.” Emma looked down at the cup in her hand. “I just, I wanted some kind of family so badly. I just started believing that wanting it was enough. With all Henry's talk of magic and curses and wishes, I told myself I was helping, when I wasn't.”

Her vulnerability was making Regina uncomfortable. “You don't have to be so hard on yourself, Ms. Swan. We're past it now.” She watched her glass as she swirled the last little bit of wine in it. “And I did a lot of things as well that were...less than helpful.”

Emma seemed to accept it, accept that that was as close as she would get to an apology. “You know, it still makes me uncomfortable, sometimes”—Emma picked at her nails—“when he calls me mom.”

Emma swallowed. “I mean I get this little thrill and it feels so good, but I also feel—I don’t know, like it's the Savior thing all over again. Mom just means—I mean, I wanted my own for so long, and now I want to be his. But I don't know, I can't even really take care of myself right now, who knows if I could ever take care of him?”

“No one's asking you to do that, Ms. Swan.” Regina fought to keep the edge out of her voice and only partially succeeded. She took a breath. “That's not what Henry needs from you.”

Emma looked up at her with sad eyes. 

Regina wasn't sure if what she was going to say next would make her feel better, or worse. She wasn't entirely sure which she wanted. “I used to think you got the sweeter end of the deal. You just show up one day, out of the blue and he treats you like you've been what he's been missing this whole time.” 

Regina smiled with her teeth and it was partly a snarl, but she managed to reign herself in. “But you have been missing this whole time. You've missed all of these years with him. And there's been a lot of bad, but there was a lot of good too. A lot of things you'll never get to experience with him. And I know you realized it. That couldn't have been easy for you.”

Emma nodded.

“It couldn't have been easy for you either,” Emma said. “Closed adoption or not. There was always the chance he might want to know me. And then...he runs away and here I am, and I couldn't seem to leave this town. I still can't.”

Regina appreciated the acknowledgment. The very idea of Emma had scared her for years—most poignantly when her own relationship with her son had been on such shaky ground. But the twist was that having her here, in both their lives, had eventually strengthened their relationship. And she was glad, after all, that Emma had chosen to stay. She smiled wryly. “Maybe Henry has some magic after all.”

Emma smiled too. “Maybe he does.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks so much for reading! :)


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